The Divergent Bond
by DivergentDanceFreak
Summary: According to the definition of Divergence, Tris can't be limited to identifying with only one faction and unfortunately, she cannot be in multiple. Can that idea be applied to boys during her initiation, as well? *ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

_She woke up to the sound of pounding of rain on the small glass window of her gray, Abnegation style house. This girl always felt comforted by the rain, by the pitter patter on the sun-bleached shingles of the roofs, or even in a stronger storm when she could hear the wind blowing the limbs of trees around and shaking the leaves off into the splashing puddles in the mundane faction. But something was odd about _this_ rain; she didn't feel the comfort that usually came with the liquid sunshine that she associated with tranquility and serenity and the feeling of just being at peace. She wouldn't have to worry about whether she was selfish; the rain would wash away her worries.  
_

_On days like this, the fourteen year old would run around in her yard, in the streets, tilting her face up just to feel the crystalline droplets on her skin and in her mouth. She would smile and laugh. On days like this, she could be her own Dauntless-watching, daydreaming, free-spirited, selfish girl, stuck in a faction that deep down she knew she never wanted to be in or stay in. She just wanted to be herself. And just as she was about to fall back asleep with her little blonde head on her uncomfortable feather pillow, she remembered why today seemed so unlike any other day off. Today was the Choosing Ceremony._

_Beatrice Prior jolted up out of her bed, wondering why on Earth her parents didn't wake her up for this day. She always loved how every sixteen year old was allowed to choose their own faction, their new faction. Dauntless, for the brave. Candor, for the truthful. Erudite, for the intelligent. Amity, for the loving. Abnegation, for the selfless. God knew she was not selfless._

_Beatrice was suddenly hit by a wave of strong, sharp pain in her head, and it dawned on her that her mother and father and brother, Caleb, were not being cruel to her._ Of course not,_ she told herself._ My family is one of the most selfless families there are._ Nevertheless, she got on her feet and padded down the stairs to the kitchen, where she reached up and grabbed some Ibuprofen from the cabinet above the refrigerator. She gulped it down with a glass of milk, ran back upstairs, and quickly showered and dressed in her every-day baggy clothing. With her long hair still wet, she pulled it up into a tight, but messy bun, slipped her shoes on, and ran outside. _

_Beatrice pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt, and threw on the rain coat she managed to pull from the closet before she left. Sprinting down the sidewalk, she just barely made it to the bus stop, despite her splitting headache, where the Abnegation was all filing into the now-full bus. She climbed on after her neighbor, Robert, who smiled at her, and she couldn't help but smile back at him. Whenever she saw his emerald green eyes she felt solace. Just like she did when Caleb used to get angry at her for being selfish, and she would run from home into the woods behind her house. In his eyes she saw the forest._

_There was an understanding between them. Sometimes, Beatrice couldn't help but wonder whether they would be dating if Abnegation hadn't had a strict no-dating-before-choosing-your-faction rule. And then he spoke up, shaking her out of her trance._

_"Good morning, Beatrice. How was your sleep? I heard from your family you weren't feeling quite well last night…?"_

_"Oh I'm feeling fine, Robert. I took a painkiller," she responded perkily, which, of course he was not surprised by though Beatrice was more of the show-no-emotion kind of girl. He knew she loves Choosing day. "Thank you." Worrying Robert with how she _really _felt would be self-indulgent._

_"Well, that's good. Your family went to the back of the bus I believe, if you wanted to join them," he said to her over his shoulder, as he was climbing into it himself, heading for one of handles to hold on to. The Abnegation gives all the seats to others. Beatrice thought about this for a moment. If she went to her family they would be disappointed in her for not resting when she was clearly sick- Robert was most likely only being polite in not mentioning the lack of color in her cheeks or the slight sheen of sweat above her lips- and for now, she would like to enjoy not being bombarded with questions about her welfare._

_"I think I'll stay here with you." At that, Robert's smile widened, and she could swear she saw all of his teeth in that one moment. Robert was smiling all the time. Beatrice often wondered how his cheeks don't become sore. That was another thing her family was less than proud of; her curiosity. Being curious is selfish, and Beatrice was often curious._

_The rest of the way on the bus ride to the Hub, where the Choosing Ceremonies take place, out of the corner of her eye, the blonde Abnegation girl saw a dark-haired boy with his head down, looking up nervously every once in a while, as if checking around the bus for someone he would not be so happy to see. Apparently that person never came. Once, he glanced at her and their eyes locked. Beatrice smiled at him, but he looked unsure of what to do, so he looked back down into his lap. That was curious. She made herself a mental note to try and befriend the boy later, that is, if he wasn't sixteen today._

_As everyone got off at the Hub, she caught a glimpse of the nervous-boy's eyes. They were the most magnificent color of blue she had ever seen, and reminded her of freedom and safety, like her friend the liquid sunshine. The Abnegation all climbed up the stairs, leaving the elevators for people of other factions as they always do, they reached the big open room the Ceremony took place in, and as she was sitting in the circle of the big room, watching the sixteen year olds one after another slit the palm of their hands and drizzle their blood in one of the five bowls representing the five factions to choose from, she couldn't help but be mesmerized and dazzled by the intensity of those two comforting blue eyes. And then she saw him step up and slit his hand. Crap. He was sixteen. Beatrice Prior would never be that boy's friend._

* * *

Tris woke up in the Dauntless compound, not in her small Abnegation room, with that dream- no, that _memory_- still fresh in her mind. Tris got up out of her transfer-initiate's bed, and walked outside from the dorm, where the slapping of her bare feet against the cold stone floor of the halls was a bit loud for her liking, but this was Dauntless, they could handle a little noise. She was incredibly surprised with herself for even being able to get any sleep. She usually lay awake, staring at the graffiti on the bottom of the bunk above her, thinking of her family and her life; how it could have been different if she stayed in Abnegation… The dream made her state of mind that much worse.

Tris found her mind wandering back to the boy's eyes. Could she really call him a boy anymore? A man? _A young man, she decided. _Tris couldn't help but feel that the first time she saw those eyes in the Dauntless compound, she had somehow knew them before, from Abnegation, but as far as she knew, no other Abnegation had ever transferred to Dauntless. Now she was sure she had seen those eyes before. And all she could hope for was that the nervous boy on the bus had let go of whatever he was afraid of that day two years and two days ago. She had changed a lot- she even changed her name- so maybe he had, too. She could only hope.

Her mother always said you could tell the most from a person by looking in their eyes, you could almost see into their soul.

In her stupor, Tris didn't look where she was walking and walked right into something hard and soft at the same time. She stumbled back a bit, shocked that someone else would be up so late in the night. Or early in the morning, she really didn't know what time it was. Strong hands encircled her arms to keep her from falling. For that, she was grateful. Beatrice looked up and she found herself lost in those dark blue eyes once again. She felt a blush creeping up the back of neck and onto her cheeks, and hoped to God he couldn't see it in the dark of the night. His name slipped out of her mouth.

"Four," she whispered, her voice barely loud enough to be heard even by herself.

* * *

The next morning Tris was late to training. Her alarm hadn't gone off and, apparently, no one had felt it necessary to wake her up. Great. She sprinted down the halls barefoot, carrying her sneakers and socks in one hand and attempting to put her hair up in a bun with the other. Failing miserably, she gave up on her blonde waves and let them fall over her shoulders. She skidded to a stop outside the training room's door, slipping on her socks and shoes, and barged into the room.

"Sorry I'm late! Sorry!" Tris was out of breath, panting, leaning on her knees for support. She knew no one would take it well if she made up excuses, so she just apologized. Four stared at her with a stone cold gaze and turned back towards the other initiates, who were in the middle of learning basic punches and kicks. He turned his back towards her.

"Christina," he calls out. Startled out of her concentration towards the punching bag in front of her, she looks up, surprised. Four hated her. Then, making sure everyone could hear him, Four said, "Would like to tell our dear Stiff what it means to be late?" You could see the expressions on her face change instantly, first from shock, then to realization, and finally, because she's a good friend, reluctant and resigned. She mumbled something into her shoulder. "What was that, Candor? Speak up!" Christina raised her chin, her eyebrows pulling together in agitation.

"Early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable." Four nodded his head at this and turned back towards Tris, finally making eye contact with the humiliated girl. They could both see Peter, Molly, and Drew smirking and snickering in the corner, whispering most likely about her. Four lowered his voice, in that ice-cold way that she found so incredibly mysterious, luring, threatening, all at the same time.

"For some reason, I recall telling everyone to be here at exactly 7:00 in the morning." He raised an eyebrow at her. "What was that?" Tris took that as a rhetorical question.

"Yes, I'm sorry, it won't happen again." She let her head drop.

"If this _does_ happen again, you will need to make up for the time you missed. I don't pick the consequence; Eric does, and trust me, it won't be some Stiff job like cleaning the bathrooms, and it won't be fun. For now, I'll let it slide, but… You've been warned." Four turns back, letting her know she's been dismissed. Sullenly, Tris walks over to the one punching bag left open, the one unfortunately right next to Peter's. Her day just kept getting better. Because she'd missed the first half hour, she observed everyone else's form; how they throw punches, where to hold your arms, where to keep your weight on a supporting leg for a kick. But no matter what, she couldn't get the stupid bag to move one inch when she made contact with it.

She could hear the jibes Peter and his "friends" were making at her, just loud enough for her to hear, not loud enough for anyone else to.

"Hey, Stiff! Maybe we should go get you a pillow to punch, instead. Or is that too heavy for you, too?"

"Can you even do a push up?"

"Those scrawny arms are definitely not made for Dauntless! I bet she got some pansycake faction in her aptitude test, like Amity!"

"Oooh, the Stiff's getting angry! Whatcha gonna do, huh? You gonna go cry to your Stiff mommy and daddy? They gonna give you a hug?" Tears sprang up in her eyes at the mention of her parents. She still missed them so much, but knew she could never see them again, afraid of what Eric might do to her if he found out she didn't believe in "faction before blood." She just wants to feel loved again. Sure, Christina, Will, and Al are nice, but nothing compared to her parents. Or Caleb. Or even Susan and Robert. Every once in a while she even feels a pang in her chest at the thought of his smiling face and how she'll never see it again, ever. As an afterthought, Tris thought maybe she even had a little crush on Robert. She'd never thought of that before, but she remembers how seeing her face in the morning would light up his eyes. Did hers do that, too? Interrupting her thoughts, something cut into her reverie:

"Or did you have a little pansycake Stiff boyfriend? How far did you guys go? Glancing at each other across the street? That's some serious stuff right there." Tris couldn't take it anymore. She knew this was what they wanted, but she couldn't stand around and let her old faction be criticized by some evil kids. She just couldn't. That's not how her parents raised her.

"_Shut up!_" Her voice went shrill. She spun around, elbowed Molly in the chest, slapped Drew across the face, and kneed Peter in the groin. Shock registered on everyone's faces as she stomped towards the exit. There was even a hint of surprise on Four's face. _Good, _she thought. Just as she reached the door, giving it the death grip, she glared at the three kids, clutching their valuables, and yelled, _"Just because your childhoods sucked doesn't mean you get to ridicule everyone else's!"_ And stormed out into the hall, running down random dark hallways until her anger began to fade, replaced by an uncomfortable, unwelcome, unfamiliar feeling of agony in the place by her heart. She reached a rather abandoned-looking corridor she thought would be hard to find, pulled her knees to her chest and broke down into a fit of tears and hiccups. _Oh, Robert… _She thought, _I miss you so much._

* * *

Sometime later, Tris woke up to the sound of fast-approaching footsteps. Somehow she had fallen asleep in her little hiding place. She just smoothed out her hair and extended her legs out in front of her on the cool stone floor of the Dauntless compound. She folded herself in half, touching her toes. Her head went just past her knees, and her chest touched her lower thighs. She loved how easy it was, how flexible she'd become in the first stage of training, even if she was an awful fighter; It was paying off. The footsteps were very loud, now, but she decided to just ignore them. Then, out of the blue, they stopped.

"Tris? Tris, is that you?" She raised her head at the sound of her name and pulled her elbows to her knees, resting her head in her hands.

_Robert?_ She hated how hopeful the voice in her head was. No. It couldn't have been Robert. _He lives in Amity now. He didn't come with you_. Instead of seeing that smiling boy, she saw a different, frowning one, with worry lines etched into his forehead. "Oh. It's only you." Her voice sounded bored, but she was anything but. She was devastated. She put her head back down to her knees, stretching her hands and arms as far as they'd go. The boy laughed, but it sounded forced.

"Only me? Wow, that makes me feel great about myself," he said rather sarcastically.

"I'm not really in the mood Uriah…" That shut him up.

"Can I sit down?"

"Do you need permission?" She asked him this, utterly lacking of any emotion.

"Do you always answer questions with questions?"

"Still not in the mood."

"Right. Sorry." Uriah slid down the wall across from her. "Tris, are you all right?" No answer. "Well… do you know the time?" Still no answer. "Okay. Well, um… it's after dinner. I noticed you weren't there, but everyone else was. At first I just thought you didn't feel like eating or something, but then I went to ask your friend- what's her name? Kristen? Christina? Whatever, I'm getting off topic- and she said you just left training. So, Tris… what happened?"

It took her a while to respond, but finally, after a couple long, silent moments, she answered him. When she opened her mouth to speak she let out an involuntary sob. Her voice was strained. "They were insulting my family. And my friends. And Abnegation." She said this as if it would explain everything, but from the look on his face she knew she should elaborate. "If someone who constantly picked on you started teasing Zeke also, would you put up with it, Uriah? Would you stand there and take it? Or would you have done the same thing I did?"

He wanted to respond with something to lighten the mood, like saying _Well, _someone_ asks a lot of questions today, _or something like that, but he just went with: "And what was that?" She seemed hesitant to respond to this one. "I won't judge."

"Well… I… You see… It's just that…" She sighed, giving herself a chance to think of the right way to say it. "Uriah, I'm scared." Then the tears came. Her racking sobs caused her chest to heave, and Uriah found himself next to her, rubbing her back and telling her to take deep breaths. _This _scared him. Tris was always strong and lively, and she _never _admitted fear. At least not to him. "I- I lost my temper and, I-" she hiccuped "- I just couldn't let them say those things about Robert, I mean, I can take it when-" another hiccup "- they're just teasing me, but, I can't let them say that about my family and my friends and I'm sure he would have done the same for me, so it's only fair, and I'm never even going to see him again and I don't know what to do because I hated Abnegation, and the only thing I really liked there besides my family was him!"

She was going into hysterics. "And now that I did that to them, they're going to hurt me and I don't know what to do and I'm so scared because I don't have anyone like Robert here with me anymore! We both transferred from Abnegation and he went to Amity, so the only way I'll ever see him again is if I get a job at the fence, and that would be only if I pass training, because I suck at combat, I doubt I'll be good with weapons, there's something wrong with my brain so I have no idea how I'm going to do with the simulations, and even if I _do _pass, it would only be if they don't kill me first!"

"Tris…" He didn't know what she was talking about. Honestly, he couldn't follow any of the _he_'s and _they_'s, but he did understand a few things. One. Tris was in love with an Abnegation-Amity transfer. Two. She lost her temper at a couple of kids. She was just being melodramatic, talking about someone who wanted to murder her.

"Tris, there is nothing 'wrong with your brain!' If anyone has some kind of mental issue it's definitely not you! Okay?" She didn't have the energy to argue with him, so she just nodded.

Uriah stayed with her until she calmed down, giving her soothing thoughts. He was patient with her. Eventually the tears ceased to flow, and the hiccuping stopped. Her nose was running, her eyes were rimmed with red, and her face was flushed. Tris pulled back from him as she wiped at her eyes, her jaw set.

"I'm sorry I made you stay here. You can go if you want."

"Tris, you didn't _make _me do anything. I chose to stay here, because I can't see someone upset... but... I think I _will_ go. You know where to find me." _Actually, I don't, _she thought. She didn't know him very well. Other than the fact that he was a quite handsome Dauntless-born initiate, she really knew nothing about the boy sitting next to her. Sure, they were friendly enough when they ran into each other, but it was nice knowing that there _were_ nice Dauntless, who would go out of their way to comfort a stranger. Tris thought about that. That seemed like a very Abnegation quality... But that wasn't the point. Uriah was already a few yards away. She scrambled up off the ground and ran to him, grabbing the back of his shirt in her hands. She felt bad about wrinkling it, but that wasn't the point, either.

"Uriah, wait!" She blurted it out. She opened her mouth to say something, he could see out of the corner of his eye as he turned his head so he wasn't completely facing away from her. She didn't say anything, though. She seemed hesitant to say something. Tris took a deep breath, and mumbled- more like grumbled, actually, "I need your company!" She _just_ needed company, but she thought he might take it the wrong way. He didn't. He squeezed her eyes shut so that her forehead crinkled and her nose scrunched up, in a way that would look cute on anyone else, but looked weird on Tris.

Uriah turned around to face her, her hands going slack and falling to her sides. She opened her eyes at his movement and could hear her breath hitch as she saw his eyes for the first time. Really saw. And in those deep, warm brown eyes she saw… something. Not love. Acceptance? She didn't know what, but it wasn't what she saw when she looked into Robert's eyes, and it surely wasn't what she felt when she looked into Four's eyes. This was different. It wasn't like rain or the forest. Still, she didn't know what it was.

They both sat back down across from each other in silence for a long time, until Tris started laughing. Laughing! She covered her mouth with one hand as he arched an eyebrow at her.

"What's so funny?" He asked in a dry voice. She managed to tell him through fits of giggles.

"Uriah… I've never seen… you be so serious… before in my life!" She clutched her stomach and her eyes were watering. Uriah playfully scowled and narrowed his eyes at her. In the scariest, most stereo-typical mafia-leader voice he could muster, he said, "You better not get used to it, either," and rushed at Tris, tackling her onto her back. She shrieked, but she was still snickering, and it made Uriah lose his bad-guy façade for a moment. She began smacking at his arms and his back for him to let go of her, but all it accomplished was spreading a mischievous grin across his face. He heaved her over his shoulder and began running from their little hallway. They reached the Pit, and it was instantly filled with her yells, telling him to put her down.

"Not until you tell me I'm the funniest person you've ever met!"

"You tell yourself that everyday when you look in the mirror! Why should _I?"_

"Ohhhh-" he laughed "-you're going to get it now." He said this very nonchalantly.

"I take it I struck a nerve?" Uriah shrugged, moving her up and down with his shoulders.

Then, in one swift motion, Tris was pinned to the ground of the Pit, Uriah sitting on top of her. She screamed louder, but the effect was ruined by the huge smiled glued to her face. "_Uriah!" _She starting swatting at him again. "I'll let you go if you just say 'Oh Uriah, you're the funniest, handsomest, strongest, handsomest, coolest boy I've ever-" His falsetto impression of her voice was cut off by the noise of someone clearing their throat. The two initiates looked up to see an angry Eric glaring down at them, his arms crossed over his chest. Uh-oh.

"Sorry to interrupt you two _lovebirds, _but-" Both of them rouged and interrupted Eric at once.

"Oh, we're not-"

"That's not how-" Eric coughed again to get their attention.

"Whatever. You-," he said, pointing an ugly finger at Uriah, "-can go. You-," he turned towards Tris, "… we need to have a little chat." Uriah got off of Tris a little confused, but he wasn't going to question Eric. Tris stood up warily and brushed herself off. Eric took off towards a hallway she'd never been in before, but before she followed him, she turned towards Uriah.

"Thanks," she said. "You really helped me out today," and she turned and left. She hated admitting weakness, even if it was small.


	2. Chapter 2

Tris was in the training room for the second time that day. Eric got wind of the fact that she had skipped training that day and this was his punishment for her. Although Four _had _warned her about this, she didn't think he actually meant it. Now she felt like a fool for thinking he was playing with her.

Eric hit and kicked her repeatedly until her body went numb. The idea was if this was done once every day you could build up a sort of immunity to the impact, like building up callouses on the feet of dancers or on the hands of guitar players, but Eric did not want her to become unaffected by beatings. He wanted her to feel pain, and even if her body _did _go numb, she would be sore and would most definitely have bruises for days after.

Besides, that little blonde Stiff needed to learn her lesson. When you leave training, you leave Dauntless. "Do you want to leave Dauntless?"

He wound up for a round-kick, his leg held up at a ninety degree angle from his body, like an upside-down L. His knee was folded, pointing straight ahead, and then he lashed out, the top of his foot hitting her hard in the side and instantly recoiled, folding his leg back into itself like a whip. He kicked her kidney, her kidney, her kidney. He punched her in the stomach, the stomach, the stomach, striking her with the first two knuckles of his hand. He elbowed her back, her back, her back, her back. This hitting, kicking and jabbing went on and had been going on for what seemed like hours, days even. Eric drove his fist into the flesh between her rib cages, causing her to vomit on the old wooden floor. He dragged her by her heavy black sweatshirt to the other side of the room, away from the mess she made.

"Stand up! You're not done 'till I say you are! That's not how you're going to pass initiation, Stiff, is it?" She stumbled up into a standing position. Tris held her arms away from herself, up behind her head. Although she was not allowed to cover herself up, Eric made sure he beat her in the places no one would see unless she stripped in front of them; no arms, no legs, no face. She was not allowed to flinch and she was not allowed to fight back. And if she did, Eric might just have brought his wrath down upon another person- a friend, maybe. She would rather take the blows herself than someone else. Besides, she brought it upon herself, and if she handed it off to another person, that would be selfish of her.

Tris's body had gone numb by then, ridding her of that awful pain, but Eric still would not let her leave.

The abuse went on.

Tris was in desperate need of sleep and her stomach was killing her, having not eaten since dinner the previous night. At one point during the beatings-she-no-longer-could-feel, Tris began planning her escape. Ideas poured through her mind, but most were failures more than anything else.

She could fake an illness.

No, she'd already emptied her stomach out onto the floor in front of him, and he hadn't even batted a lash.

She could pretend to faint.

No, that wouldn't work, either. "Thankfully" for her, Eric was purposely avoiding any spot on her that would cause her to pass out, so that option was out, too.

She could start up the waterworks.

No. That would be showing weakness _and _it would be humiliating.

She finally decided on just walking out the door, but it would need to be timed. Eric never let his guard down, so she needed to catch him in the middle of an action.

Eric changed his stance, putting his weight on solely his left foot. He switched back and forth on his feet again, but quickly in order to gain momentum. He was going to kick her. This was her chance.

Eric's foot pivoted and he swiftly tilted his upper body to the side just a bit. His leg came up at an impressive speed, and just as his pointed foot was about to come in contact with her torso, she darted beneath him. Tris sprinted towards the door, and reached it as Eric spun for a second and stumbled, off balance. He hadn't hit anything.

And he had not comprehended that yet. Her hand flew to the knob. She twisted it, but to her dismay, it was locked. She didn't have a key. _Why does it have to be locked? _Frantically, Tris rattled the door, looking back over her should at the enraged Eric, coming at her just as quickly as she had come at the door just a second before.

Then, Tris realized it was pointless. Metaphorically speaking, she had just dug her own grave. Either way, attempting to escape was cowardly. It would only get you on Eric's bad side, and that was not a good place to be. Eric's _good _side was a normal person's bad side. The thought ran through her mind just a little too late.

It wouldn't even have mattered if she had escaped, he would still get her back for it somehow. But she didn't escape. Eric grabbed her, towing her back to the other side of the room, and this time he made sure he didn't take his eyes off her. Out of his belt he pulled a knife, silver and glinting. How had she overlooked that earlier? Maybe because she was too busy with the fists and feet connecting with her skin and bones? _I bet that's it, _she thought.

"We're going to try this again, and if you move even one muscle, you'll regret it. Do you understand?" Tris gulped and nodded. She gathered her last wits and strengths and courage and pulled herself together to face his rage once more. _All he's going to do is throw a knife at you, somewhere near you. Very close to you, but he won't hit you. You're an initiate; he can't kill them off. He won't hit you, he won't hit you, he won't hit you… _She played this in her mind, putting it on replay. Suddenly she was hyper-aware of everything.

The light streamed in through the small window, creating a dancing pattern on the grungy floor.

The wood of the floor was splintered in places along the walls, but smooth in the center of the room, worn-out from all the feet that ever tread on it.

The room smelled of sickly-sweet sweat, and rusty, coppery, metallic blood.

There were marks on the walls from the points of knives that missed their targets, indents on the floors from fallen weapons and fallen bodies.

Every sound that was made was enhanced by the natural sound-mixer of the rock walls.

And finally, finally, Eric…

Her breathing sped up. She was beginning to hyperventilate. _Don't panic, don't panic, _Tris told herself.

He looked at her with his dark, piercing eyes that always drew a shudder out of her.

Tris could hear footsteps echoing in the hall just outside that locked door. _Please let whoever it is let me out. _He looked at the knife, flashing beams of light across the room when tilted this way or that.

She could hear the door jiggle in its frame, someone trying to get in. _Thank you, bless you! _He raised the knife, holding the tip in his hand- _The tip? Must be some preference of his_- between his first two fingers and his thumb as if he was holding a piece of paper or just finished snapping.

She heard someone curse- not Eric… not her…- and in that moment it was the sweetest sound she had ever heard. He changed his footing, placing his right foot back a foot or two, nearly lined up with the left and bent his knees ever so slightly.

She heard a jangling noise- like keys in someone's hand- that was so loud in her ears; she thought people across the world could hear the cacophony. He prepared, aiming for the spot on the target right next to her left ear, or just below her right hand.

She heard the lock click; the sound of the metal gears sliding past one another resounded in her head. He swung his arm straight out, as if he was chopping a block of wood.

She saw the door as it opened slowly, creaking. He released the knife without his shoulders moving, without his wrist flicking.

She saw the knife flying straight for her forehead. His lips parted in an evil, toothy grin.

Tris let out a gurgling scream and forgot her not-so-savior who was not yet in the room.

The shining object was an inch away from her, spinning in the air.

And everything went black.

* * *

Everything was dark. Tris could barely see her hand even if she held it an inch in front of her face. She began to panic as she remembered why she passed out. Eric tormented her and she let it happen. What else could she have done? Nothing. Everything would have backfired. Everything did backfire. _Am I dead? Where am I, where am I? _Her breathing had sped up without her knowing and she tried to calm herself. _Five seconds, and I'll be calm._ _One. _She took a deep breath through her nose. _Two. _She held the air in her lungs, and breathed out slowly through her mouth, attempting to push the air to the ceiling. _Three. _She rubbed her cheeks, her face, her face, her eyes, and smoothed out her hair. _Four. _She cracked her back, her knuckles, her neck. _Five. _She was awake.

Tris was in this place she didn't know and as she felt around herself, getting acquainted with her surroundings, her hands touched something light, soft, and fluffy. In fact, she was _on _something soft. She felt around a little more and came to the only conclusion she could make other than she was dead, in heaven, and sitting on a cloud: she was in a bed. But whose?

It wasn't hers; her initiate blanket was rough and scratched at her skin. Tris decided to get up and feel out the room. _Exploration time!_ She dared herself to find the light switch, and make a game out of it. She crawled across the bed on her hands and knees, trying to find the edge of it so she could get off safely. Unfortunately, she overestimated where she was and fell off the side, making a muffled thumping sound because of the covers wrapped around her. She let out a yelp of pain, as she had landed on her sore back, and suddenly she no longer wanted to stay awake. She wanted to drift off into a dream that would alleviate her pain until she woke again to the horror that was reality. Life.

She groaned and started feeling her back and torso to detect how badly Eric hurt her. Almost every inch of her core was tender and burning. Every time she moved her back, she grimaced. Whenever she leaned over, she flinched. Nothing she did was comfortable, but there was no way in Hell she would tell anyone what happened. It had more to do with her pride than with her safety. No matter how stupid and self-sacrificing it may have seemed to others, Tris could not admit that Eric scared her. That he hurt her. That she needed someone to protect her from him.

Because that would drag someone else into her problems and that was not something she wanted to do.

Tris decided to go back to sleep, curled up on the floor between the soft, delicate, cushioned sheets she had never felt before. In Abnegation you were not allowed luxuries, because that would be self-indulgent. Here she couldn't care less about selfishness. Still in her little fetal position, Tris reached up onto the bed, groping around for the pillow she encountered before and pulled it onto the ground with her. The second her head touched the downy feathers, she was deep in sleep again.

So much for being awake.

* * *

_Something that was so immensely cold it almost felt hot drowned her skin, seeping, sneaking, sweating into all of her pores, opening them, filling them, bloating them. The force of it was pressing against her eyelids; she couldn't open them. There was a bedlam, a pandemonium, a chaos that echoed throughout her ears as if an orchestra of machine guns went off in her head, and the insane music was a music no one wanted to listen to. But this music was the work of nightmares._

_It sounded like a man was screaming, shrieking, being tortured. It sounded like a thousand pots and pans were dropped at the same time, all in unison. It sounded like a wailing baby without his mother. It sounded like a cat howling, a dog barking. It sounded like a poorly played violin, a horrible screech sounding, a string snapping, breaking. It sounded like an untuned piano played by a five-year old, bashing their hands against the keys over and over, creating an awful din._

_It sounded like someone was vomiting. It sounded like the static-y shrill of microphone feedback. It sounded like nails scraping against a chalkboard, ever so slowly, ever so tormenting. But this. _This _was so much worse. It was more vehement, more cacophonous than anything she had ever heard._

_This excruciating discord was like all of that terrible clamor, repeating in her mind._

_Tris struggled to peel her eyes open, one after the other. Just as she did that, whatever was pressing in upon her flew into her eyes, with a sharp, piercing pain that made her blink and squeeze her eyes shut, tears stinging and leaking from the corners of them._

_Water. It was water. She was drenched._

_The blonde little girl tied to rub at them to soothe them, but quickly found she could not move them. _What is going on? _She asked herself. Her hands were raised above her head, held there by some force she could not see, and though her hands and arms and every limb of her body were slick with water and sweat, she could not pry her hands free. And she realized why soon enough._

_Tris was being dangled above the Chasm._

_She desperately peered up to see who or what was holding her there. What she saw was haunting. She saw three pairs of eyes and three menacing sneers, so leering they were almost grimaces._

_One pair of emerald eyes._

_One pair of sapphire eyes._

_One pair of topaz eyes._

_A gurgling scream got caught in her throat as the three finally released her._

_Tris fell to her most certain death._

_Her last thought was of trust and betrayal._

* * *

The next time Tris woke up she was still on the floor, tangled in her bedding and she was just as soaked as she was in her dream.

Tris did not know what it was the dream was trying to tell her, if it was trying to tell her anything, but she did know that how she saw Caleb, Four, and Uriah would never be the same.

She had woken up from a cold sweat, from which she now felt sick. Tris scrambled up off the floor, out from her cocoon of fabric and feathers, and ran away from her fluffed pile of quilts. If she was going to retch, she didn't want any of it near where she was sleeping. Tris got no more than five short stumbles- they could barely be called steps- when she fell to her knees and dry-heaved. She had already emptied her stomach in front of Eric, and there was nothing more to throw up. It still felt uncomfortable. The sound emitted from her must have sounded like a muffled, gurgling, guttural scream of sorts, but there was no one to hear it, and Tris was glad for it. She would have been completely embarrassed.

But then she realized that _someone _must have brought her here, to this strange place.

The lights flicked on. She was in an apartment. As she looked up into the incandescent bulbs mounted on the ceiling and walls, they burned into her eyes, shining brighter than she had ever remembered a Dauntless light to shine. And they hurt.

Tris cringed back, covering her face with her arms and she clenched her eyes shut, again like she did in her dream.

"Aaaah..." She moaned, pathetic and airy. It took her a little while to take her hands away and open, her eyes, but when she did Tris still needed to blink a few times before she became adjusted to the light. When she saw who was standing in front of her, she had no reaction.

But then her eyes widened to a size so large, she must look like her eyes were going to pop out of her head.

"You," Tris whispered, taken aback.

She stared at the person in front of her, wide eyed, mouth agape. It took her several minutes to comprehend the reality of the situation and she blinked repeatedly. She rubbed her eyes.

"R-Rob... Robert?" Her forehead wrinkled and her eyebrows furrowed. Tris was confused. _How could he be here? Now? Why?_

"Beatrice! Get back in bed! You're not strong!" Tris couldn't believe Robert was in Dauntless. With her. Before her. Hesitantly, she stepped forward, inching towards him as if, if she moved too quickly he would be swept away like fallen leaves in a gale of wind. "Robert...?" She asked again. _Is it really you? _Tris chose to ignore the cheesiness that thought took on. She also chose to ignore that he had called her weak; It was a low blow but he was with her, for what reason she did not know, but whatever the reason it must be good.

He ran towards her, picked her up in his arms, and hastily set her down on the mattress a few feet away. He looked at her with -What was it? Love? Reminiscence? Tris couldn't detect it- in his beautiful lush green eyes. Too soon though, his expression changed from being warm and welcoming as she knew it to be, to disappointed. She had never before seen a frown on his face, but sure enough there was one, tugging at the corners of his lips and he reminded her of how Caleb used to look at her when she was selfish. When she saw that look she would escape to the trees but if the trees were looking at her that way, too she would no longer find solace in them. If Robert looked at her that way, she could never look at him the same way either. Her own lips fell from a ghost of a smile to her own frown that she seemed to be wearing often recently. What had happened to him to change him so much? Tris wondered. Then, from the doorway she heard another familiar voice.

"Watch yourself, Stiff. That's not going to get you to pass initiation." _What is it with these people and initiation? _Her frown deepened. Robert looked at the other young man and said, "Please. Beatrice needs rest. She won't get it if we keep talking in this manner." Four kept his gaze level and gave him a brief but icy glare before he nodded and stalked out of the room, into the mini-kitchen that was the next room over. Tris peered confusedly from Robert to the then-empty doorway previously inhabited by her instructor. "Robert... What is Four doing here?" She waited for his response, but before he could speak she thought of something else: "Why are _you _here?" Her eyes were fixed more intently on him now, anticipating the answer, hoping it was because he missed her, too. Robert rubbed his neck.

"Well, none of the Dauntless have been signing up to be a doctor- that's what they do here, they sign up for jobs- so I was assigned to help out in the infirmary. Honestly, the nurses don't know much except how to inject those serums- I don't understand those, why would anyone ever want to live their nightmares?- so I've been teaching them some stuff... I got here last night." Tris found it quite annoying that Robert was trying to teach her about her own faction. "Oh." She let it slide. "But then why are you _here_?" No matter how much she wanted it to not be so, Robert was only here for work, which was the confusing part; _Why would he be with me? _Then it hit her. _Unless... _Tris's hands flew up to her face where she saw the knife flying towards her. She felt nothing. "Am I alright? _Why are you here?" _She was becoming suspicious.

"No, Beatrice, you are fine. You just need rest."

"Well _why?_" Stubborn as always.

"Because Eric tried to _murder you!_" Tris and Robert both looked towards the door where Four stood again with a beer in his hands, his face flushed with anger. The boys both seemed deep in thought.

"I-I... I know!" Tris stammered, stumbling over the words. "But I'm not _dead._" _Duh. I'm just immensely bruised and may have some type of internal bleeding. 'S better than death. _Tris winced at her own train of thought and remembered her ribs and her stomach and her sides and her gut that must be black and blue- literally- by now.

"Listen-" Both men began to speak at the same time with the same almost-pleading tone in their voices. They looked at each other, shocked and annoyed that they would do such a thing as speak at the same time. Tris got the impression that there was some kind of tension between the two.

Four looked daggers at Robert and began, "I was going to the training room to practice some knife-throwing. You weren't anywhere to be found-" Was that a blush blooming on his cheeks? _Nah, nah. Couldn't be. _Tris brushed aside the quite embarrassing and almost hopeful thought. "-and neither was Uriah or Eric... But the door was locked- we never lock up unless we absolutely need to. I was going to turn around, go to the cha- erm... go... somewhere else... but I heard something going on in there and something was definitely wrong. I opened the door and you fainted. Eric had thrown a dagger at your head, and it had hit you, too-" _Wait. Then why don't I feel any bump or anything? _

Robert must have seen something on her face because he interrupted by saying, "The Amity have enhanced medicines. They heal wounds quickly- even scars." _Oh. _Four continued on, wearing an unemotional mask. _He must be angry. He must not like being interrupted. (But, really, who does?)_

"Your forehead was bleeding... I would have taken you to the infirmary, but I didn't want people nosing about. I doubt anyone would do anything if they found out Eric is murderous- we all kind of assumed that- but I don't think Eric would be happy with the public knowing about his twisted ways, either. So... I just brought you here..."

_Oh. _Tris was in _Four's _apartment. Weird.

"I went to get someone I could trust to take care of you, and _he _was there." He gestured to Robert with his chin. "So I guess you know each other." Tris looked longingly into Robert's eyes. There was definitely something there... but what? "Yeah. You could say that."

"Sleep." Robert commanded her, but not without the usual kindness and sweetness and softness and caring in his voice that she remembered. Maybe he hadn't really changed. Maybe Four was getting to him- Four tended to do that to people- intimidate them. He was good at it, too.

"Sleep and be in the training room by 7 sharp," her instructor added strictly. Yup. Intimidating.

The two boys leave her alone to sleep. Tris curled up under the covers of the newly-made bed (Robert had been at work while Four was explaining- There was still some Abnegation left in him.) and fell asleep wondering where Four would spend the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter: Unknown's POV**

* * *

_Divergent, divergent, divergent..._ He plays the word over and over in his mind, repeating it, hating it, fearing it.

_Divergent... _he uninterestedly picks at the food in front of him, not tasting it when he chews- Is he sick?

No. He is distressed. He is pensive.

He fell into this stupor hours ago; it all started when he was getting ready to go to breakfast. He woke up at his normal time, somewhat early for most people, and took a shower. The water ran cold over the muscles of his back and shoulders. He shivered but it woke him up, so he was wide awake and alert; ready for the day. He got dressed and began walking down the halls of his faction, smiling just a touch. It was the kind of day where he woke up and felt content and just plain good- for no apparent reason.

He had taken longer than expected to get ready, so there was only a small trickle of people in the halls instead of the usual rush of initiates and members, racing to get their morning coffee. A short ways ahead of him bobbed a small blonde head, weaving between the bodies. Seeing her, a grin spread across his face as it always does with her around. For a while he just watched her as she greeted her friends, and he relished her presence.

A high, feminine voice called something quick and sloppy from behind him, and he paid no attention to it. She did, though. Hearing something, she turned around and began walking backwards looking for the person whose voice she heard, a grin playing on her lips. A silent laugh bubbled over and out of her lips. His smile faltered and then disappeared. This was not her, this was not her.

Her face was different, her nose too small, with freckles scattered across it, her mouth too big.

This was not her at all.

All of the meal he spent thinking of her. All _day _he spent thinking of her, thinking of how she pinches the bridge of her nose when she is agitated, thinking of her piercing eyes, thinking of _her. _(Not that that is unusual, though...) Lately he had been seeing her in everything. The smallest thing reminds him of her:

The color grey.

The word "stiff."

Selflessness.

Sarcasm.

The word "be." (It sounded like her old name...)

And now, bruises.

Bravery.

Nails.

Fire and coals.

Everything reminds him of her.

Everything reminds him of how he can't have her. All because of that word...

_Divergent._

He can't tell anyone, not even her, no matter how much he wants to, no matter how much he wants her to trust him. He could die. Everyone he's close to could die. She could die. He will not risk her life for his own happiness, he will _not_.

_Divergent, divergent. _Stupid divergence. Why does he have to be divergent? Why can't he be a normal teenage boy, so he can have a normal relationship with the girl he loves?

_Love? _

Yes, he loves her.

But they can never be together. Not just because he's Divergent, but because she is not. If she found out would she want to be with him? Would she avoid him vehemently, as if he had the plague and was madly contagious? He didn't want to take the chance.

It is dinner now. He has been out of it for hours. Were people talking to him? Has he interacted with another soul all day? Has he worried anyone?

...Will this become a routine?

Only God knows.

He chuckles wearily.

_Divergent, divergent, divergent, divergent... _he cannot think of anything else. He is drowning in his sorrow, his self-pity. He needs to be stronger. Sitting up a little straighter, he stops pushing his food around his plate and stands up, throwing out the wasted meal and placing the utensils in the tubs so they will be washed later. He heads for the exit of the cafeteria without making eye contact with anyone and has no place in mind for his destination.

_Divergentdivergentdivergent! _Just walking around, the boy- no, the young man- resolves that will try to forget the brilliant beauty whom he cannot seem to delete from the database that is his thoughts. The golden-headed girl will be gone. She will be expelled from his life.

He made his choice and he will not go back on it. He will keep her away from him, at arm's length, for her own good.

She will be safe.


	4. Author's Note On Hiatus

Hello, everyone!

Yes, this is an Author's Note. Yes, I'm sorry!

First of all, I'd like to thank all of you for reading and reviewing this! It means so much! Secondly, I'd like to talk about my situation- that sounds really bad, it's nothing too serious! No illnesses or death, I promise! I just haven't been continuing this story for a while- it really has no plot, and while I do like writing this, I'm sure you all know how hard it is to write something without a plot! Which is why I have decided to put this story on hiatus. I don't have much time anymore and even if I did, it would be a waste of time- I don't know what I'm doing with this! Just until I figure this all out.

Would you guys mind if this was a mindless series of drabbles if Divergentland was different?

Or do you want there to actually be a plot?

This is what I have been debating with myself, so I finally decided to ask you.

Thoughts? Suggestions? Hopes? Wishes? Please get back to me!

* * *

*Officially on hiatus- sorry!


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